Co-Dependent 7/?
Pairing: Vince/Eric
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Entourage or it's characters
Summery: Eric isn't dealing and he isn't talking and this is bad and Vince just wants to help.
Author Notes: This is may secretly be the last chapter.
When E wakes, he throat aches. It doesn’t ache in that weird, hurts when you swallow-strep throat sort of way, it burns and scratches and he knows better -now- then to try to speak. His lungs are also pulling hot and tight within his chest and as he tries to draw in air. Oddly, despite that he feels warm for the first time since he woke in an over air conditioned hospital room alone. The weight of blankets over him is not oppressive, it is comfortable and the scrape of Vince’s snores don’t grate, they soothe him and E, for the first fucking time in six weeks, thinks that this might actually turn out okay, that he might end up okay, that maybe this new weaker (or maybe he had always been weak and only just learned how weak) E could still manage Vince’s life. But before he can pull himself out of bed and go do the work required to keep Vince’s career okay, to keep them okay, E’s eyes drift shut and he falls back asleep.
*********************
When Vince wakes up, E is still asleep, thank God, lying on his stomach with his head turned towards Vince. The movie star takes a second to really look at his friend, to see the shadowy fissures carved beneath his eyes, the little parenthesizes enclosing his mouth which still isn’t fucking relaxed, and the knob of his spine as it pokes past the collar of his T-shirt. But still, there is different quality to E then last night; there is wholeness to E that Vince realizes he hasn’t seen since even before he left for Europe.
That thought chills him slightly and burrows under the covers and closely to E and as gently as he can, Vince shuffles E into his hold and tucks his nose against E shoulder blade, pressing his temple into the side E’s neck, and breathing, because he has had a strange vacuum inside his lungs that he could suck quite enough air into since Turtle made that stupid fucking joke about bodyguards and, god, Vince never thought he would be grateful for Turtle’s big mouth. So he presses his face into his best and tries as hard as he can to not think about hard angles of bones right beneath the skin pressing back into him.
*******
The second time E wakes he is a lot more alert and when he realizes he has somehow become ensconced in Vince’s long fucking monkey arms that a million girls swoon over everyday, and as much as a part of him has always wanted this, he doesn’t want it this way. He doesn’t want Vince to pity him and shame presses hot and hurtful in the back of his throat as he remembers that Vincent Chase, fucking sex god, saw his twisted wreck of a body last night. So he shoves himself away from Vince, who is drowsing against him and is in the bathroom leaning over the sink breath heaving, lungs aching before he really makes the decision.
E meets his own eyes in the mirror and his pupils are blown wide and scared looking. Crescents mark his moth and under his eyes, pressing deep and dark into his sweaty play skin. His red hair is sculpted into sweaty tufts from scrubbing his fingers through it. E turns away from the mirror before removing his clothes, he feels gross and ugly and his just wants hot fucking water from Vince’s three headed shower to wash the grime and sweat off him until he doesn’t feel so sick anymore. So E avoids the mirror and slips into the shower and very determinedly doesn’t think about whether the hot water would run out before his weakened lungs drown him in the hot steam already fogging the mirror.
*************
Vince is jostled out of his warm muzzy E filled state by E rocketing out of bed and into the bathroom before Vince can muster more then a sleep cracked, “E?”
When Vince manages to heave his way out of bed, the shower is running and E is deaf to Vince’s calls. Strangely because well, its E and Vince always know what he needs, Vince has no idea what to do. At a loss Vince moves to his dresser and idly pulls on some jeans and a T-Shirt before getting an idea and padding into E’s room, opening his dresser. Oddly, most of E clothes are gone and all Vince can find are the few cold weather clothes E has shoved into the back of his dresser so Vince wads them up and drops them in his own room before moving downstairs.
He feels better now that he is more awake and knows what to do: he is going to make damn sure that his shithead of a best friend gets fucking better because he hates the ugly tension that shattered the last view he had of sleeping E and he hates the way E watches them all carefully and he hates how fucking thin the man has gotten.
So Vince is in a foul mood when the slumps into the kitchen and is drawn up short by a sight he did not expect, “Bob?” he offers stupidly after a moment.
Bob swings around a smiles at him, teeth straight and bright and even like everyone in this fucking town, and suddenly Vince hates him. He hates his fake teeth and his stupid smile and the way his T-shirt pulls tight over well muscled shoulders when he twists his torso and it’s mostly because E doesn’t smile bright and a little shy anymore and his shoulders a thin, all skin and bone with ropey muscles, eaten mostly away by his body weeks ago so Vince guesses the real reason he hates Bob is because he isn’t E and never was even that night with stupid voice pitched just a bit too high.
“Vince” and Bob voice whines around the consonants like a mosquito, and Vince is only angrier but Bob’s grin is so dopey and reminiscent of old E that Vince can’t quite resist it, so instead of punching Bob in the face Vince drops down on a stool beside Bob and sips the hot coffee Drama hands him. “I just finished a fucking big picture, man, and I was thinking about hitting some private Caribbean Island for bit and I though you and your boys might like to tag along.”
Bob’s tone is a suggestive and his moves his hand onto Vince’s thigh just as E slinks into the room, warmed in his dark, too big winter clothes, with his eyes looking a little bit desperate, and Vince watches, can fucking see, the pained twist of E mouth and how he smoothes it down when his sees Vince. He watches E’s face go blank, the total lockdown of communication that no can get through, when he sees Bob’s hand.
Vince stands up, “E…” and E turns to him eyes conveying nothing, and pupils blown a little too wide before mumbling something about work and turning around abruptly in that way Vince wishes he wouldn’t because he remembers knee problems after he fell off the stage in King Lear and he fucking knows this is hurting E.
Bob shoots Vince a quizzical look and it is that shy, slightly confused expression, which Bob clearly tries to hide as much as E does that stops Vince from exploding out of his seat and punching Bob for being okay.
Instead, he dips his head a little, letting his curly longish bangs fall into his eyes and looks through them at Bob. He holds his gaze and with an innocent half smile, he says, “I’d love to Bob, but I owe my publicist a favor and I have decided that it will be not giving her a fucking ulcer.”
It takes a moment for Vince’s words to sink in, but when they do Bob takes it gracefully. He smiles, a little forced but still generous at Vince and replies, “Of course, I understand…Maybe some other time?”
Vince puts on his most charming face, the one that E falls for like patsy, and Vince ignores that guilt that thought brings up to focus on Bob. “I don’t know, dude, it’s a pretty big favor.”
Bob nods, “Of course” he says again and then he quietly rises, turns to the door, then turns back to Vince, “If you change your mind-”
“I won’t” Vince interrupts still grinning. Bob just nods and walks out the kitchen.
Vince turns to Drama, who raises an eyebrow, “His name was Robert Paulson.” He answers the unspoken question and Drama nods. Turtle shuffles in, apparently he and E slept later then he thought, as the distant sound of the front door closing echoes through the house.
“Who was that?” Turtle mumbles, “E?”
“Nah” Drama shakes his head, “That dude. His name was Robert Paulson.”
As Turtle nods, eyes fuzzy, and Vince stands up, heart hammering. He feels desperate and his flesh is itching under his skin, he has to find E and…
Vince isn’t quite sure what he is going to do but he feels like he and E are at a crossroads and if he goes and find him and pursues this feeling something will change, a line will be crossed and he isn’t sure they will be able to cross back and for a second that thought stills Vince because he is happier than he has any right to be with E as his friend and Vince isn’t sure he is comfortable changing that irrevocably.
But E is his best friend, more than that really, and last time Vince saw him he was hurting and sad and a little lost so Vince really can’t accept his own selfish desire to not risk his life with E if it means letting E stay that way longer then he has to.
So with a pressing desperate feeling, Vince walks quickly through the house, he means to go check the study where E has holed up, but instead he finds himself jogging towards E’s old room, the one he slept in before Vince left and all this happened, when everything was okay.
He is running by the time be reaches the door and why is this mansion so fucking big? So he hits E’s door with a lot of force and ends up stumbling undignified and panting into the center of the room.
E is standing in front of closet which has large mirrored doors, shirtless, head turned towards Vince, face pale and surprised. “Vince?” He stutters swiveling his head around while he brings his arms up in a pathetic attempt to cover his chest. Before Vince can catch his breath, E’s hand snaps out grabbing a long sleeved shirt from his bed and he tugs it quickly over his head before he turns to face Vince again, much more composed.
The action gives Vince pause because when you have been best friends with someone forever minor details like nudity and personal space stop mattering, but then of course, Vince reflects, E has been keeping him boundaries a lot tighter these days then he ever has before in his life. The weird, nauseating problem though is that Vince is on the outside of E’s barriers.
The sight of E, eyes bright and face closed off, distracts Vince from his purpose and he is left staring stupidly at E, who just looks back steadily with a hint of challenge and wariness which Vince hates because E never looks at him like that, he might look at the whole fucking world like that but he never thought Vince was enemy, never.
Vince swallows, dropping his eyes, and opens his mouth, not sure what he is going to say but E is the one who makes plans and Vince just goes with the flow. Right know the fucking flow says he needs to wipe the closed off expression off E’s face.
“So here’s the thing, dude,” he begins and he still doesn’t know what he going to say but his mouth is moving and E is listening and that’s really all he wants. “You’re my best fucking friend in the whole world. You have been since we were six and you were a normal height for your age and you took on that fucking Goliath of a forth grader when he stole my lunch. You have been the most important person to me in my life for basically all of it. You’re like…my fucking life partner or something okay?”
Vince pauses for breath and now E looks a little freaked out and he opens his mouth but Vince steamrolls over him. “So yeah, I guess of I fucking love you or whatever shit you wanna call it, and you thinking I am gonna let you drown yourself in all this shit is the dumbest thing you have ever done, including Kelly Richards!”
As Vince pauses to catch his breath, E cuts in, face and voice tense. “Vince, listen, dude, I’m really…It’s not…You’re just…” He takes a deep breath and says abruptly, “I’m fine, dude, really, and seriously maybe you should cut down on the early morning weed because that was some homoerotic shit that you just dropped.”
Vince is livid because E doesn’t get to do this shit. “E, fucking listen to me…You are not fine, alright, you anything but, your not fucking sleeping, you eat less that anorectic extra from Aquaman, and you won’t, jeez, you won’t even fucking look at yourself and I know, I know that you must hate me a little because it is my fault, if I had just been…I mean if I could have…been fucking here for you and all that shit and if you…” Vince has to take steadying breath, “If you don’t want my help, then…then I understand but I need you, please, please, to go talk to a fucking shrink” Vince pauses, desperate to get out from under the oppressive weight of what he is demanding, of the whole situation. “Or if you’re really desperate, Turtle.”
E snorts, it isn’t laugh but its enough and Vince steps toward him. “But if you want more than advice to get more pussy and some really fucking good weed, I got you covered.”
E blinks, his face had been growing more confused as Vince talks, “Vince, I don’t…I don’t blame you. You know that, right?”
E gestures towards himself, “This all…this all here is all my fault, okay? Not yours, I don’t…I don’t want you to feel guilty…or fucking responsible or whatever for me. I could really…do without your fucking pity, okay?”
Vince’s eyes are wide and surprised. “Jesus Christ, E! I don’t fucking pity you, I worry, I keep my mouth shut, I barely see you and when I do you look like death warmed over, but I do not pity you, E!”
E eyes are hard and bright and mean. “Sure, you don’t. You don’t pity poor ugly scarred E? Fuck that, bitch! Don’t fucking patronize me, Vince! I know what I am now and you lying about it is a fucking insult!”
Vince is yelling now too. “I am not fucking patronizing you! I am not pitying your stupid sorry ass either! I just want you to fucking be okay, alright?”
And before E can open his mouth, before Vince can really think about it, he leans down and kisses E, firmly, like the final point in an argument and Vince thinks dimly as E beings to kiss back, maybe it is.
Before either really has time to think about it, they are falling into a tangle of limbs on E’s bed and Vince is afraid to stop kissing him because when he does E is going to realize what is going on and push him off.
So Vince keeps his mouth on E has he shoves his fingers under E’s skin, seeking flesh with years of hunger, dating back to when they were thirteen and Vince first started wondering what it would be like to kiss E.
It’s good, he’s discovered, to kiss E, really fucking good. So he keeps doing it, even as clothing is shed and skin meets skin and the world begins to blue a little at the edges, E is in complete focus and Vince just keep kissing him, hot and fast and hard until their really just panting into each others mouth as they hold unto each other, bodies twisting together and with E shirt twisted up over his chest.
E hands are everywhere, warm and shaking a little and never out of contact, he can’t seem to stop clutching at Vince, touching him and inhaling his exhalations with a crazed desperation. E’s hands stroke at his skin and tugs at his hair and press into Vince’s flesh as if to check that he is tangible.
Vince’s hands stay firmly planted on either side of E torso, granting him the necessary leverage to thrust deep and hard, but pressed close enough that through the tender skin on his wrists Vince can feel E’s little shudders and quiet cries as they move together; he can feel the tiny quiver of E’s mouth and his muscles and his breath when he comes, shock contracting his diaphragm in a little gasp. The tiny movement sends Vince hurtling after E off the edge into the white heat and they hang there together for a moment before floating back down to themselves and E draws breathe harshly through his open mouth and Vince collapses onto him and they stay like that for a while.
Vince was the first to break the stillness, pushing his mouth onto E one last time, the final rebuttal to their argument. But E tensed and shivered as Vince pulled away, eyes soft, taking in everything.
E cleared his throat shift uncomfortably away. He clearly wanted Vince off and space between them but didn’t want to tell Vince to get out of his space. So Vince just stayed slumped half over him not shifting as E rough voice began. “Look, man. I know…I mean…I understand…what you’re trying to do but...this? This is a mistake and I know you’re feeling guilty but you can’t throw your career away because you can’t handle me having a little accident”
E voice is calm and controlled and serious. Vince tries to make his smooth and casual, “A mistake?” he offers lightly. “Dude, my career has nothing to do with this”
E glares. “Don’t try to give that shit to me, we have worked to hard to get where we are for you to throw it away in some desperate attempt to heal your best friend. I am not becoming the pizza boy who ruined Vinny Chase’s career, no fucking way. This was always gonna be a one time thing if it happened and now we just pretend it never did.
E’s voice is totally even but Vince knows him better then he knows himself and he can feel tension broiling away under the words so Vince picks what he says next very carefully, heart thumping because he can’t believe he’s gonna really fucking do this.
“Always gonna be a one time thing, E? Does that mean you have thought about this before?” E’s eyes flick away guiltily and Vince takes a deep breath because he is on the cusp of getting everything he’s ever wanted since he was six if he can just convince E. “Because I have. A lot.”
E turns towards him, quick and shocked eyes. “Vince…” He starts uncomfortably but Vince speaks over him.
“Come on, man. Since forever its been you and me. You know that, we have been heading toward this our whole lives. I think its time, dude. It really fucking finally time. So come on, man. Let’s just…be happy.”
Vince voice goes high and pleading at the end of his speech and he sees E’s eyes widen a little, comprehension dawning, and then he smiles a little hesitant quick of the lips.
Vince grins back at him big and bright and irresistible, willing to use whatever charisma he has to convince E, and it works, E always fold to Vince always and his smile become bigger and more confident until Vince smothers it in another kiss.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Entourage or it's characters
Summery: Eric isn't dealing and he isn't talking and this is bad and Vince just wants to help.
Author Notes: This is may secretly be the last chapter.
When E wakes, he throat aches. It doesn’t ache in that weird, hurts when you swallow-strep throat sort of way, it burns and scratches and he knows better -now- then to try to speak. His lungs are also pulling hot and tight within his chest and as he tries to draw in air. Oddly, despite that he feels warm for the first time since he woke in an over air conditioned hospital room alone. The weight of blankets over him is not oppressive, it is comfortable and the scrape of Vince’s snores don’t grate, they soothe him and E, for the first fucking time in six weeks, thinks that this might actually turn out okay, that he might end up okay, that maybe this new weaker (or maybe he had always been weak and only just learned how weak) E could still manage Vince’s life. But before he can pull himself out of bed and go do the work required to keep Vince’s career okay, to keep them okay, E’s eyes drift shut and he falls back asleep.
*********************
When Vince wakes up, E is still asleep, thank God, lying on his stomach with his head turned towards Vince. The movie star takes a second to really look at his friend, to see the shadowy fissures carved beneath his eyes, the little parenthesizes enclosing his mouth which still isn’t fucking relaxed, and the knob of his spine as it pokes past the collar of his T-shirt. But still, there is different quality to E then last night; there is wholeness to E that Vince realizes he hasn’t seen since even before he left for Europe.
That thought chills him slightly and burrows under the covers and closely to E and as gently as he can, Vince shuffles E into his hold and tucks his nose against E shoulder blade, pressing his temple into the side E’s neck, and breathing, because he has had a strange vacuum inside his lungs that he could suck quite enough air into since Turtle made that stupid fucking joke about bodyguards and, god, Vince never thought he would be grateful for Turtle’s big mouth. So he presses his face into his best and tries as hard as he can to not think about hard angles of bones right beneath the skin pressing back into him.
*******
The second time E wakes he is a lot more alert and when he realizes he has somehow become ensconced in Vince’s long fucking monkey arms that a million girls swoon over everyday, and as much as a part of him has always wanted this, he doesn’t want it this way. He doesn’t want Vince to pity him and shame presses hot and hurtful in the back of his throat as he remembers that Vincent Chase, fucking sex god, saw his twisted wreck of a body last night. So he shoves himself away from Vince, who is drowsing against him and is in the bathroom leaning over the sink breath heaving, lungs aching before he really makes the decision.
E meets his own eyes in the mirror and his pupils are blown wide and scared looking. Crescents mark his moth and under his eyes, pressing deep and dark into his sweaty play skin. His red hair is sculpted into sweaty tufts from scrubbing his fingers through it. E turns away from the mirror before removing his clothes, he feels gross and ugly and his just wants hot fucking water from Vince’s three headed shower to wash the grime and sweat off him until he doesn’t feel so sick anymore. So E avoids the mirror and slips into the shower and very determinedly doesn’t think about whether the hot water would run out before his weakened lungs drown him in the hot steam already fogging the mirror.
*************
Vince is jostled out of his warm muzzy E filled state by E rocketing out of bed and into the bathroom before Vince can muster more then a sleep cracked, “E?”
When Vince manages to heave his way out of bed, the shower is running and E is deaf to Vince’s calls. Strangely because well, its E and Vince always know what he needs, Vince has no idea what to do. At a loss Vince moves to his dresser and idly pulls on some jeans and a T-Shirt before getting an idea and padding into E’s room, opening his dresser. Oddly, most of E clothes are gone and all Vince can find are the few cold weather clothes E has shoved into the back of his dresser so Vince wads them up and drops them in his own room before moving downstairs.
He feels better now that he is more awake and knows what to do: he is going to make damn sure that his shithead of a best friend gets fucking better because he hates the ugly tension that shattered the last view he had of sleeping E and he hates the way E watches them all carefully and he hates how fucking thin the man has gotten.
So Vince is in a foul mood when the slumps into the kitchen and is drawn up short by a sight he did not expect, “Bob?” he offers stupidly after a moment.
Bob swings around a smiles at him, teeth straight and bright and even like everyone in this fucking town, and suddenly Vince hates him. He hates his fake teeth and his stupid smile and the way his T-shirt pulls tight over well muscled shoulders when he twists his torso and it’s mostly because E doesn’t smile bright and a little shy anymore and his shoulders a thin, all skin and bone with ropey muscles, eaten mostly away by his body weeks ago so Vince guesses the real reason he hates Bob is because he isn’t E and never was even that night with stupid voice pitched just a bit too high.
“Vince” and Bob voice whines around the consonants like a mosquito, and Vince is only angrier but Bob’s grin is so dopey and reminiscent of old E that Vince can’t quite resist it, so instead of punching Bob in the face Vince drops down on a stool beside Bob and sips the hot coffee Drama hands him. “I just finished a fucking big picture, man, and I was thinking about hitting some private Caribbean Island for bit and I though you and your boys might like to tag along.”
Bob’s tone is a suggestive and his moves his hand onto Vince’s thigh just as E slinks into the room, warmed in his dark, too big winter clothes, with his eyes looking a little bit desperate, and Vince watches, can fucking see, the pained twist of E mouth and how he smoothes it down when his sees Vince. He watches E’s face go blank, the total lockdown of communication that no can get through, when he sees Bob’s hand.
Vince stands up, “E…” and E turns to him eyes conveying nothing, and pupils blown a little too wide before mumbling something about work and turning around abruptly in that way Vince wishes he wouldn’t because he remembers knee problems after he fell off the stage in King Lear and he fucking knows this is hurting E.
Bob shoots Vince a quizzical look and it is that shy, slightly confused expression, which Bob clearly tries to hide as much as E does that stops Vince from exploding out of his seat and punching Bob for being okay.
Instead, he dips his head a little, letting his curly longish bangs fall into his eyes and looks through them at Bob. He holds his gaze and with an innocent half smile, he says, “I’d love to Bob, but I owe my publicist a favor and I have decided that it will be not giving her a fucking ulcer.”
It takes a moment for Vince’s words to sink in, but when they do Bob takes it gracefully. He smiles, a little forced but still generous at Vince and replies, “Of course, I understand…Maybe some other time?”
Vince puts on his most charming face, the one that E falls for like patsy, and Vince ignores that guilt that thought brings up to focus on Bob. “I don’t know, dude, it’s a pretty big favor.”
Bob nods, “Of course” he says again and then he quietly rises, turns to the door, then turns back to Vince, “If you change your mind-”
“I won’t” Vince interrupts still grinning. Bob just nods and walks out the kitchen.
Vince turns to Drama, who raises an eyebrow, “His name was Robert Paulson.” He answers the unspoken question and Drama nods. Turtle shuffles in, apparently he and E slept later then he thought, as the distant sound of the front door closing echoes through the house.
“Who was that?” Turtle mumbles, “E?”
“Nah” Drama shakes his head, “That dude. His name was Robert Paulson.”
As Turtle nods, eyes fuzzy, and Vince stands up, heart hammering. He feels desperate and his flesh is itching under his skin, he has to find E and…
Vince isn’t quite sure what he is going to do but he feels like he and E are at a crossroads and if he goes and find him and pursues this feeling something will change, a line will be crossed and he isn’t sure they will be able to cross back and for a second that thought stills Vince because he is happier than he has any right to be with E as his friend and Vince isn’t sure he is comfortable changing that irrevocably.
But E is his best friend, more than that really, and last time Vince saw him he was hurting and sad and a little lost so Vince really can’t accept his own selfish desire to not risk his life with E if it means letting E stay that way longer then he has to.
So with a pressing desperate feeling, Vince walks quickly through the house, he means to go check the study where E has holed up, but instead he finds himself jogging towards E’s old room, the one he slept in before Vince left and all this happened, when everything was okay.
He is running by the time be reaches the door and why is this mansion so fucking big? So he hits E’s door with a lot of force and ends up stumbling undignified and panting into the center of the room.
E is standing in front of closet which has large mirrored doors, shirtless, head turned towards Vince, face pale and surprised. “Vince?” He stutters swiveling his head around while he brings his arms up in a pathetic attempt to cover his chest. Before Vince can catch his breath, E’s hand snaps out grabbing a long sleeved shirt from his bed and he tugs it quickly over his head before he turns to face Vince again, much more composed.
The action gives Vince pause because when you have been best friends with someone forever minor details like nudity and personal space stop mattering, but then of course, Vince reflects, E has been keeping him boundaries a lot tighter these days then he ever has before in his life. The weird, nauseating problem though is that Vince is on the outside of E’s barriers.
The sight of E, eyes bright and face closed off, distracts Vince from his purpose and he is left staring stupidly at E, who just looks back steadily with a hint of challenge and wariness which Vince hates because E never looks at him like that, he might look at the whole fucking world like that but he never thought Vince was enemy, never.
Vince swallows, dropping his eyes, and opens his mouth, not sure what he is going to say but E is the one who makes plans and Vince just goes with the flow. Right know the fucking flow says he needs to wipe the closed off expression off E’s face.
“So here’s the thing, dude,” he begins and he still doesn’t know what he going to say but his mouth is moving and E is listening and that’s really all he wants. “You’re my best fucking friend in the whole world. You have been since we were six and you were a normal height for your age and you took on that fucking Goliath of a forth grader when he stole my lunch. You have been the most important person to me in my life for basically all of it. You’re like…my fucking life partner or something okay?”
Vince pauses for breath and now E looks a little freaked out and he opens his mouth but Vince steamrolls over him. “So yeah, I guess of I fucking love you or whatever shit you wanna call it, and you thinking I am gonna let you drown yourself in all this shit is the dumbest thing you have ever done, including Kelly Richards!”
As Vince pauses to catch his breath, E cuts in, face and voice tense. “Vince, listen, dude, I’m really…It’s not…You’re just…” He takes a deep breath and says abruptly, “I’m fine, dude, really, and seriously maybe you should cut down on the early morning weed because that was some homoerotic shit that you just dropped.”
Vince is livid because E doesn’t get to do this shit. “E, fucking listen to me…You are not fine, alright, you anything but, your not fucking sleeping, you eat less that anorectic extra from Aquaman, and you won’t, jeez, you won’t even fucking look at yourself and I know, I know that you must hate me a little because it is my fault, if I had just been…I mean if I could have…been fucking here for you and all that shit and if you…” Vince has to take steadying breath, “If you don’t want my help, then…then I understand but I need you, please, please, to go talk to a fucking shrink” Vince pauses, desperate to get out from under the oppressive weight of what he is demanding, of the whole situation. “Or if you’re really desperate, Turtle.”
E snorts, it isn’t laugh but its enough and Vince steps toward him. “But if you want more than advice to get more pussy and some really fucking good weed, I got you covered.”
E blinks, his face had been growing more confused as Vince talks, “Vince, I don’t…I don’t blame you. You know that, right?”
E gestures towards himself, “This all…this all here is all my fault, okay? Not yours, I don’t…I don’t want you to feel guilty…or fucking responsible or whatever for me. I could really…do without your fucking pity, okay?”
Vince’s eyes are wide and surprised. “Jesus Christ, E! I don’t fucking pity you, I worry, I keep my mouth shut, I barely see you and when I do you look like death warmed over, but I do not pity you, E!”
E eyes are hard and bright and mean. “Sure, you don’t. You don’t pity poor ugly scarred E? Fuck that, bitch! Don’t fucking patronize me, Vince! I know what I am now and you lying about it is a fucking insult!”
Vince is yelling now too. “I am not fucking patronizing you! I am not pitying your stupid sorry ass either! I just want you to fucking be okay, alright?”
And before E can open his mouth, before Vince can really think about it, he leans down and kisses E, firmly, like the final point in an argument and Vince thinks dimly as E beings to kiss back, maybe it is.
Before either really has time to think about it, they are falling into a tangle of limbs on E’s bed and Vince is afraid to stop kissing him because when he does E is going to realize what is going on and push him off.
So Vince keeps his mouth on E has he shoves his fingers under E’s skin, seeking flesh with years of hunger, dating back to when they were thirteen and Vince first started wondering what it would be like to kiss E.
It’s good, he’s discovered, to kiss E, really fucking good. So he keeps doing it, even as clothing is shed and skin meets skin and the world begins to blue a little at the edges, E is in complete focus and Vince just keep kissing him, hot and fast and hard until their really just panting into each others mouth as they hold unto each other, bodies twisting together and with E shirt twisted up over his chest.
E hands are everywhere, warm and shaking a little and never out of contact, he can’t seem to stop clutching at Vince, touching him and inhaling his exhalations with a crazed desperation. E’s hands stroke at his skin and tugs at his hair and press into Vince’s flesh as if to check that he is tangible.
Vince’s hands stay firmly planted on either side of E torso, granting him the necessary leverage to thrust deep and hard, but pressed close enough that through the tender skin on his wrists Vince can feel E’s little shudders and quiet cries as they move together; he can feel the tiny quiver of E’s mouth and his muscles and his breath when he comes, shock contracting his diaphragm in a little gasp. The tiny movement sends Vince hurtling after E off the edge into the white heat and they hang there together for a moment before floating back down to themselves and E draws breathe harshly through his open mouth and Vince collapses onto him and they stay like that for a while.
Vince was the first to break the stillness, pushing his mouth onto E one last time, the final rebuttal to their argument. But E tensed and shivered as Vince pulled away, eyes soft, taking in everything.
E cleared his throat shift uncomfortably away. He clearly wanted Vince off and space between them but didn’t want to tell Vince to get out of his space. So Vince just stayed slumped half over him not shifting as E rough voice began. “Look, man. I know…I mean…I understand…what you’re trying to do but...this? This is a mistake and I know you’re feeling guilty but you can’t throw your career away because you can’t handle me having a little accident”
E voice is calm and controlled and serious. Vince tries to make his smooth and casual, “A mistake?” he offers lightly. “Dude, my career has nothing to do with this”
E glares. “Don’t try to give that shit to me, we have worked to hard to get where we are for you to throw it away in some desperate attempt to heal your best friend. I am not becoming the pizza boy who ruined Vinny Chase’s career, no fucking way. This was always gonna be a one time thing if it happened and now we just pretend it never did.
E’s voice is totally even but Vince knows him better then he knows himself and he can feel tension broiling away under the words so Vince picks what he says next very carefully, heart thumping because he can’t believe he’s gonna really fucking do this.
“Always gonna be a one time thing, E? Does that mean you have thought about this before?” E’s eyes flick away guiltily and Vince takes a deep breath because he is on the cusp of getting everything he’s ever wanted since he was six if he can just convince E. “Because I have. A lot.”
E turns towards him, quick and shocked eyes. “Vince…” He starts uncomfortably but Vince speaks over him.
“Come on, man. Since forever its been you and me. You know that, we have been heading toward this our whole lives. I think its time, dude. It really fucking finally time. So come on, man. Let’s just…be happy.”
Vince voice goes high and pleading at the end of his speech and he sees E’s eyes widen a little, comprehension dawning, and then he smiles a little hesitant quick of the lips.
Vince grins back at him big and bright and irresistible, willing to use whatever charisma he has to convince E, and it works, E always fold to Vince always and his smile become bigger and more confident until Vince smothers it in another kiss.